


Pride and Punishment

by PuffleHuff90



Series: The Darkest Side of Me [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 05:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21502555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffleHuff90/pseuds/PuffleHuff90
Summary: Harry has been in captivity for several weeks. Beaten, exhausted, and mentally broken, he still finds the strength to deny Voldemort's orders, but how long can he last when a friend is in danger? Chapter 6 from my work "The Darkest Side of Me" from Voldemort's point of view! If you haven't read it yet, go check it out!
Series: The Darkest Side of Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688641
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Pride and Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Darker Side of Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777765) by [PuffleHuff90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffleHuff90/pseuds/PuffleHuff90). 



Darkness was slowly creeping among the tall hedges outside the hazy glass door, devouring the scenery as the cloud hidden sun dropped below the horizon. A cold summer rain was pounding the already soggy ground into a muddy mess. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the room where the Dark Lord stood watching the raging weather. The anger whirling inside him thrashed violently much like the branches being tossed around in the wind. 

A door creaked slowly open behind him followed by the soft sound of approaching steps. By the sound of the hesitation, it was not good news. 

"My Lord." The wavering voice of Avery carried across the room, the fear it held confirming Voldemort's suspicions. "The werewolf is providing difficult to find. Greyback has assured us…" 

"Save me your excuses, Avery," The Dark Lord spat. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes and turned to face his Death Eater. He allowed his anger a moment to damper before fixing his red eyes on Avery's kneeling form. "I will not be kept waiting. Is that understood?" 

"Of c-c-course, master. It's j-j-just…" 

"CRUCIO!" 

Avery's stammering excuse was cut short as screams tore from his lips. His body collapsed all the way to the floor, writhing in agony. The image wasn't enough to satisfy Voldemort's rising vexation however. Gritting his teeth, he released the curse and walked closer to the crumpled Death Eater. 

"Have the werewolf here in one hour or we will continue where we left off. Is that understood, Avery?" His voice was cold, each syllable dripping with disappoinment. 

Avery tried to scramble to his feet but stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. He bowed low, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his lungs fought to expand. "Yes….my….Lord," he managed before hurrying from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

The Dark Lord twisted his head slightly, his displeasure radiating down his body in violent waves. He looked down at his twitching fingers that were wound tightly around the handle of his white yew wand. Relinquishing his grip, he brought the wand up to study the carmine tent staining the wood. Blood, the boys blood to be exact. 

Sighing deeply, Voldemort sank into a nearby armchair with it's high back facing the door. He took the hym of his cloak and proceeded to polish the stains from his wand as thoughts began to whirlwind through his mind. Was this experiment really worth the effort? The boy lay beaten and exhausted, at his mercy not three rooms away. How easy it would be to just finish him now. A thorn in his side removed. 

However, this connection intrigued him more than anything had in several years. He had prided himself on having studied every form of magic but this; this was new. Countless nights he had spent pouring through old texts, looking for some mention of magical connections of the mind, but answers still evaded him. No, he couldn't give up on it just yet. Once he had a bargaining chip there would be no more resistance from the boy. He may not care about his own life, but Voldemort knew how eager he was to keep his friends from harm. 

Satisfied with his decision, he used his clean wand to summon a book from a nearby table. He'd searched through the book on magical bonds several times that night, but there had to be something he was missing. Turning the pages slowly, he lingered on a paragraph concerning Unbreakable Vows before the sound of the door creaking open him caught his attention. He waited silently, waiting for someone to speak, but no voice came. Perhaps the chair was blocking him from view. 

Placing the book on the arm of the chair, he rose and faced the now open door. It's frame was empty. Frowning slightly, Voldemort paced the length of the room and peered out into the hall. Shadows darkened the long passage, but no one seemed to be there either. The wind could have easily dislodged the door. 

The Dark Lord was about to return to his seat when an odd shape emerged from the other end of the hall. Two Death Eaters were supporting a struggling man who was bound at the wrist and ankles with silver chains. He planted his feet causing the group to stumble slight to the left as the Death Eaters tried to regain control. "Stuner's just wore off," Avery explained as he produced his wand, ready to stun the werewolf again. 

Voldemort raised his hand to halt him, "Leave him, Avery. We will want him fully awake. Drag him in front of the f…" 

Loud screeching filled the Manor, echoing along the walls at an ear-splitting pitch. Voldemort cast his eyes down the corridor, his brows furrowing in momentary confusion. It only took a second for the pieces to fit together. There had been someone at the door and now they were attempting to escape across the grounds. Foolish boy. Did he not realize that measures would be put into place not only to keep intruders out but also to keep him in. 

Lucius came sprinting down the hallway, Bellatrix close on his heels, as flames sprung to the candles above their heads. "I would hurry, Lucius. We do not want our friend escaping," Voldemort said, his voice calm. The security of knowing that it was nearly impossible for the boy to get past the fence kept his temper from rising. "Get the werewolf in front of the fireplace," he said, returning his attention back to Avery. 

Avery and the other Death Eater, dragged the man across the drawing room floor, tossing him roughly to the hearth rug in front of the open fireplace that was roaring with heat. He rolled onto his side and managed to get to his knees but the chains prevented him from rising further. He glowered up at Voldemort, trying to say something around the wad of rags that were blocking his throat. 

Kneeling slightly, Voldemort pulled the cloth from his mouth and tossed it to the floor beside him. The man coughed, working his jaw in a circle to regain the feeling. A deep purple bruise was beginning to blossom beneath the bristly hair of his unshaven cheek. Apparently, he had put up a good fight before being stunned. 

"Where's…Harry," he managed to blurt out between his fit of coughs. 

Voldemort smiled a cruel smile, his anger long forgotten. "Who says he is still alive," he whispered coldly. 

"You wouldn't have brought me if here he wasn't," the werewolf replied confidently, but behind his golden eyes Voldemort could see the fear building. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Voldemort returned to full height, sweeping soot from the knee of his pants with a gentle flick of his wrist. "I am sure you have plenty of information to offer. After all, you have been keeping close tabs on the werewolf community. First, however, I must attend to our little problem outside." With that, Voldemort turned to Avery. "The others should be arriving shortly. Pierce is bringing the muggle up from the village." He reached out and grabbed Avery's wrist, pushing the sleeve back to reveal the Dark Mark. He pressed a long pale finger against the black skull before letting go. "Have them all in here before I get back ." Without waiting for an answer, the Dark Lord swept from the room. 

It was easy enough finding which door the boy had escaped through. Wind was howling through the open sliding glass door, covering the floor inside with rain and leaves. Lightning flashed across the black sky above, casting light upon four figures just outside the room. Voldemort silently went to stand in the door frame, watching the scene unfold outside on the veranda. 

The boy appeared to be stunned, his body floating in the air as the three Death Eaters stepped out of the muck onto the flooded cement. However, as soon as he was dropped to the ground, he tried scrambling to his feet again. There was still some fight left in him then. Good, Voldemort thought as he watched Yaxley dragging him across the rough surface towards the ravine of water surrounding the patio. It would make the night much more pleasing. 

Voldemort allowed the assault to continue, trusting that his Death Eaters knew the boy's limits. They knew all too well what would happen if they killed him by accident. From where he stood, he could see the frantic scrambling of Potter's legs as he tried to dislodge the larger wizard from his back. He fought earnestly, but to no avail. It wasn't until Bellatrix raised her wand and casting the cruciatus curse did Yaxley remove himself. 

The boy flipped over, his back arching as he screamed up into the raging storm. The Dark Lord couldn't repress the smile spreading across his thin lips at the sight. However, he knew Bellatrix could not be trusted to control herself. She had to much anger for the boy to think rationally. 

Stepping out into the rain, Voldemort felt the frigid water seeping down to his scalp. Repressing a shiver, he stepped towards the group until he was able to hear Lucius's yells. 

""This brat tortured me at the ministry. The Dark Lord will understand," Bellatrix shrill voice shouted over the wind. 

"Will I, Bellatrix," he asked calmly. Every head turned in his direction, and the woman lowered her wand, her face falling. Behind her, Voldemort could see the boy retching into the water that surrounded him. His body was shaking violently against the wet clothes and pain obviously coursing through his limbs. "You will do well to remember your place," he continued, his red eyes returning to her and then sweeping across the remaining two. "The punishment for those who disobey their Lord will be severe. Now, we have other matters to attend to. Let's get the boy inside and and bring Dolohov to me. He is apparently incapable of locking a door and must pay for his ignorance." 

Voldemort pushed passed the three, all of whom had they're heads bowed like children who has just received a scolding, and towered over the boy. "Have you had your fun, Potter? Did you think it would be that easy to get away?" 

"I…almost…" Harry tried feabley to answer. Voldemort could see his hand clutching to his expanding ribs and couldn't hold back a soft laugh. 

He shook his head, his wet locks swaying with the motion. "You would have never made it past the fence, dear boy. Now, I think it best if we continue this discussion in the drawing room." He turned his gaze to Yaxley and Lucius, flicking a finger in a silent command to pull the boy to his feet.

Without waiting, he crossed back into the Manor and proceeded back to the drawing room. His wet robes were dripping droplets onto the wooden floor with soft taps. With a lazy flourish of his wand, he dried his clothes, leaving his body warm as if he'd walked through a warm breeze. 

Walking through drawing room door, he was pleased to see his followers waiting patiently. They straightened in their seats as he entered as if preparing to rise, but he held up a hand to dismiss them. He had no time for formalities now. He turned his back to the werewolf and watched as the boy was shoved down to kneel in front of him, but not before a flicker of fear filled his eyes at the sight of his friend. This was the response Voldemort was looking for. This was the turning point. He sensed the werewolf stir behind him, but he payed him no mind. 

Tapping his wand against the palm of his hand, Voldemort savoured the tension spreading across his captive's body before speaking. "I'm glad I went ahead and had the werewolf brought here tonight. Your escape attempt tonight can not go unpunish…"

Potter began to struggle to his feet, but the Dark Lord turned away, his wand leveling with the werewolf's face. "Crucio," he whispered. 

The man fought the urge to scream, instead curling in until his face was nearly pressed against the gleaming floor. He back shook, and Voldemort could hear his teeth grinding furiously as he the pain began to win the battle. Why did they always try to fight it? It didn't take long for the grunts to give way to full on screams that cut through the silent room. A malicious gleam crept into his red eyes as he cut them towards Harry.

The boy was on his feet now, hands outstretched to seize Voldemort's wrist, but Lucius was quick to stop him. This didn't stop Harry from struggling, but with every tug Lucius pulled him tighter to his own body. His green eyes locked with Voldemort's and he could see the desperation flooding them. 

Voldemort was about to release the curse when the boy spoke unexpectedly. 

"Stop, please!"

Satisfaction flooded every part of his body as a wide grin overtook his face. He hadn't expected compliance so soon, especially not pleading. He raised his wand. "Say that again," he said barely above a whisper. However, it looked as if it were merely a slip of the tongue as the boy's face tightened in defiance. Shrugging his shoulders, Voldemort turned back to the werewolf. 

"No! I said stop…please." The panic was now heavy in the teen's voice. The last word came slowly but Voldemort closed his eyes letting the pleasure spread through him. 

Slowly, Voldemort took several advancing steps, stopping only inches from the boy. Harry's attention was still on the man struggling to regain control of his shaking body, but when Voldemort spoke, Harrys unwillingly forced his eyes up to meet his. 

"I'm glad to see you are finally learning some manners, boy. However," Voldemort paused, he could see the hatred returning to those green eyes. He smirked, then returned to stand by the open fireplace. An iron poker had been left inside the blazing flame, it's tip now an angry shade of red. Wrapping his long fingers around the rough handle, Voldemort brandished it from the coals and let it hang menacingly in front of the werewolf's cheek. I don't think we're quite there yet."

The words had their desired effect. Uncontrollable terror replaced the anger on the boy's face. Even from where Voldemort was standing, he could see his breath catch and his pulse begin to race before he started to struggle against Malfoy once more. Words were rattling from his mouth, but Voldemort was no longer listening. The man at his feet leaned away from the heat radiating from the iron, but an idea formed in the Dark Lord's mind. 

Smiling at his own cleverness, he gave his wand a flick and a dog's collar appeared around the half-breed's neck along with a short leash that Voldemort gave a sharp tug to. Laughter rolled through the room but it wasn't enough to cover the boy's raging. 

"Stop, you bastard! Just stop!" His voice was hysterical now. Hate mixed pleading until Voldemort was unsure which one the boy felt more. 

Ignoring him completely, the Dark Lord pressed the red iron against the man's face without hesitation. The skin immediately began to bubble and break open, parts of it clinging to the iron where it touched. The smell was horrible; a mixture of burnt hair and an indescribable tange of melting flesh. The man howled, pulling against the chain that kept him from escaping the pain. Voldemort continued to watch emotionlessly, his eyes flickering towards the boy. 

Harry's eyes were shut tight, his hands groping at Lucius's arm as he turned his face to the side. Peering into his mind, Voldemort saw the guilt washing through him. It was enough to bring a smile to his face. He pulled the cooling poker away and placed it back into the fire, flames leaping up to lick the clinging flesh from the metal. It sizzled and popped as it returned to gleaming red. 

"Look at me, Harry or I'll continue down his body," Voldemort called over the werewolf's continued cries. Misty green eyes met his, and he pulled the rod back out of the flame and brought it down forcefully against the man's back. His ragged shirt began to smolder as the fabric caught fire and burned down to the flesh. The skin was a bright red as Voldemort bared down, pushing the metal deep into the bleeding tissue. 

"I'll do whatever you want," Harry's voice called out over the jeering Death Eaters. Voldemort's gaze lingered on the boy, unwilling to remove the metal until he was satisfied. Could it really be that easy? 

"Whatever I want?" He tossed the poker back into the fire where it clattered loudly against the grate. The room had gone silent except for the panting and moans from the man on the rug. Voldemort could see the thoughts rolling through the boys mind, but it only took a minute for him to concede. 

Triumph overtook every emotion in the Dark Lord's body, pushing away his previous doubts and hatred. He waved towards the back of the room, and waited for Pierce to drag the muggle forward. He nodded towards Malfoy who relinquished his grip on the boy. It was time for the real test. 

"I have only one simple request, Harry. Well, for now." Voldemort spoke calmly, watching as Harry eyed the scared muggle before him. Taking a step forward, he offered the boy his wand. "Kill the muggle."

The look of utter shock was enough to cause a small snort of laughter from the Dark Lord. It was easy to see the confusion transition to realization and then to sudden panic in the boy's face. Behind him the werewolf had regained his tongue. His shouts of pleading falling on deaf ears. 

" That…that wasn't the deal," Harry said feebly.

Voldemort merely shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. "Given your prior disrespect, circumstances have changed. If you wanted a vengeful cause, you should have tortured Malfoy when you had the chance."

Ignoring the werewolf, Voldemort paced behind Harry, waiting for the request to sink in further. A loud crash of thunder shook the room, but everyone's eyes were on them. Voldemort snaked his arm around the boy and pressed the warm wand into his shaking hand. Leaning low, he licked his lips and whispered, "Kill the muggle or I kill the half-breed."

The boy shook his head, apparently grasping for any excuse possible. "I can't. You have to want to for the spell to work," he answered in his own whisper. 

Closing his eyes with a twinge of frustration, Voldemort let out a sigh that caused the boy to cringe slightly. "It will work out of necessity. You may not want to, but you have no other choice." When the boy continued to hesitate, he added "If it helps, this man was found wandering the streets of a nearby town. Who are you morning for, Potter?" The tone was callous as if the man's life were worthless. "He has no family or friends. He won't even be missed. By all means, you're doing him a favor."

A smile spread across his face as the boy raised the wand. He closed his eyes, focusing hard on an image of Bellatrix taunting Harry and pushed it into the boy's mind. He felt Harry stiffen in front of him and opened his eyes to see him raising the wand. A flash of green light filled the room and many of the Death Eaters stared in amazement before bursting into mock cheers. 

Voldemort smiled around at them all before grasping the boy's shoulder in congratulations. He assumed it would only be a few seconds before realization chased him into shock. The clatter of the wand slipping from his slack grip confirmed this, as the boy twisted to the floor, coughing a mouthful of bile onto the polished mahogany. His shoulder shook with each retch and Voldemort chuckled softly. 

Bending down, he retrieved the wand and patted him comfortingly on the back. "Good job, Harry. See how easy that was." The excitement was palpable in his voice. 

"Easy? I just killed someone!" 

Voldemort's satisfaction grew at the tremor in Harry's voice. The youth straightened however, standing toe to toe with his enemy. Voldemort held his ground, staring down into the boy's eye with a triumphant grin. 

"Why would…what was the point of any of this?" The teen sputtered out. 

"Just a small test of your nerve," he hissed coolly.

"A test? This isn't a game! These are people's lives you're destroying," the boy raved, his hands shaking with rage. 

Voldemort must admit he admired the kid's nerve. He stood there, bold as brass, shouting at the man who could kill him with an easy flick of his wrist. It wasn't often he found such a fighting spirit, especially in someone so young. 

"Am I any different than Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore…" The boy looked away hesitantly. There was doubt there then. Voldemort could use that to his advantage. "He's never killed anyone just because he could."

"Directly, maybe not, but inadvertently how many have lost their lives for Dumbledore's gain." Voldemort's voice was conversational, holding no malice for his enemy. 

"Don't listen to him, Harry. Dum.." Agitated, Voldemort flicked his wand in the werewolf's direction. His sentence stopped abruptly as a muzzle appeared, strapping tightly around his face. Howl's of laughter broke out around the room but were quickly silenced by a wave of the Dark Lord's hand. This was important. 

"It doesn't matter to me how you choose to view your Headmaster, however I ask you Harry; how has he treated you this past year?"

Behind those emerald irises, Voldemort could see the pieces fitting together. The neglect, the isolation, the pure indifference that the old man had show towards the boy since the end of last year began to whirl within his young mind and Voldemort could see it all. It was so easy to manipulate his thoughts when they were written out so plainly for him to read. 

"I would even go as far as to say that your Godfather's death could have been prevented if Albus had taken the time to teach you Occlumency himself rather than putting his trust in someone who had proven time and again his dislike for you." Voldemort had made it a point to have Severus there, knowing the conclusions Harry would draw immediately. He could see his attention sifting to something over his shoulder, a wave of hatred rolling through his mind. 

"Are we done?" It was the only thing that came from the boy as he turned his attention back to Voldemort. Anger, hatred, betrayal all rolled together as he stared blankly upwards, but to the Dark Lord's delight he saw that it wasn't for him. It was for Dumbledore.

Voldemort tilted his head slightly, trying to decide whether he could gain anything by pushing the subject further. In the end he decided to let the boys stew on his own thoughts. Let his imagination fill in the gaps. After all, he already suspicious of Dumbledore's intention. Why not let him come to his own destructive conclusions? 

He nodded approvingly. "If you're ready to return to the cellar, you and the werewolf may go." With a lazy wave of his wand, the muzzle and chains we're removed from Lupin. A Death Eater roughly pulled him to his feet, gripping his arm tightly, ready to escort him to their holding cell. Lucius stepped forward and painfully gripped Harry's upper arm. Jerking his arm away, Harry fixed Lucius with a loathing stare before following Remus from the room "Oh and Lucius, take the body down to the cellar as well."


End file.
